


Peace

by shutupeccles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post - Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupeccles/pseuds/shutupeccles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort’s death should have set everyone free, but some hearts will always be at war with themselves</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace

Neville sat with the Sword of Gryffindor beside his plate as he ate properly for the first time in weeks. Sounds around him blurred into one as his fingers reached out to brush the hilt.

He recalled his first day at Hogwarts, how nervous and worthless he felt compared to the likes of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. _I don’t belong in Gryffindor_ had been his internal mantra for seven years, constantly reinforced by others. He still couldn’t believe that the sword of great Godric Gryffindor presented itself to him. Neville savoured the adulation of those around him, knowing their attention would focus on Harry once they spotted him. He caught sight of the three Malfoys huddled together like refugees in hostile territory and remembered that pride cometh before the fall. Draco had bullied Neville relentlessly before this year began. Now he was the outcast. Neville didn’t feel the anticipated triumph.

“Excuse me,” he said to his new-found admirers and made his way across the Great Hall, sword in hand simply because he didn’t know what else to do with it. He stopped directly in front of the fallen family. Lucius could soon be living near Neville’s parents in St Mungo’s. Narcissa ran the family now. “Mrs Malfoy, may I speak privately with Draco?”

“If you intend to kill me Longbottom, do it here. Be an even bigger hero.” Draco’s familiar snide tone was smothered in self-loathing.

“I just want to talk.”

Narcissa silently urged her son to go with Neville. Lucius continued to stare blankly at his fingernails.

“I don’t need your sympathy, Longbottom.” Draco spat the words once they reached what was left of the grand marble staircase. He folded his arms and glowered at the rubble rather than look at Neville.

“I know what you did,” Neville said quietly.

“Everyone knows,” Draco sneered. His eyes didn’t linger on Neville’s face.

“Not that you leaked information to the Order from Malfoy Manor, they don’t,” Neville replied as he walked backward up the shattered steps.

“That’s because I didn’t.” Draco glanced sideways in alarm, but he followed.

Although they were alone, Neville quoted messages that mysteriously appeared on windows of Gryffindor Tower in a whisper. “ _Charity Burbage murdered, not missing. Potter captured, escaped – Be Alert. Caterwaul charm over Hogsmeade…_ ”

“It wasn’t me,” Draco insisted through clenched teeth. He barely moved his lips.

“There’s no need to lie to me, Malfoy. Voldemort’s dead, sincerely, truly, ire-vocally – completely dead. He can’t threaten our families anymore. You don’t have to pretend…” Neville’s free hand reached toward Draco’s and his fingertips brushed Draco’s palm. Terrifying moments filled Neville’s life, yet this scared him more than facing down Voldemort.

Draco’s fingers closed around Neville’s and tightened desperately, briefly, before both hands retreated to the safety of his pockets. “Yes I do. I’m the last viable descendant of two pureblood houses. Both the Black and Malfoy lines depend on me. My mother… I’m enough of a disappointment. I can’t let her down again.” Keeping his eyes on the stairs, Draco hastily stood on his toes to plant a fleeting kiss on Neville’s cheek, and then he leapt down the stairs.

“But we won!” Neville called after him in anguished disbelief.

Draco turned at the doors and finally looked him in the eye. “Yeah, you did.” Draco’s smile was equal parts praise and regret as he opened the doors to the Great Hall with his bum. Then, shoulders hunched and head lowered, he returned to his family.

Neville let the sword slip from his fingers and slide down the stairs. This war would never be over.

 


End file.
